Desires Of The Mind
by end-the-third
Summary: WOOOHOOO! Chapter five is finally finally finally here! I think I've gone mad with joy and relief. Plus, I reloaded ALL the other chapters after I read them over and made a few changes. It felt a lot better to me afterward. a lot smoother now. RR me!
1. Remembrance

Author's Notes: Oh dammit. I got soooo many reviews (ookay, not that many) that said that Squee and Nny seemed OOC, that I went and read the fic over again, and found myself agreeing. So here it is: the REVISED and SOMEWHAT IMPROVED version of "Desires Of The Mind." Just a recap: This fic has absolutely nothing to do with any of the other fics, so you don't need to read any of them to understand this (Although I wouldn't mind if you read them anyway ^_^. Please do? No one reviews 'Crawling'.).  
  
Okay, just to remind you: Squee's seventeen, Nny and Devi are, hmmmm, let's say, in their early thirties (real grownups!), and Angel is sixteen.   
  
P.S. Thanks to Maniacal Dragon for the tip on Nny and Devi's ages, that helped me a lot. I couldn't tell if they were still teenagers, or in college, or what.  
  
Desires Of The Mind  
  
Nny'sFallenAngel  
  
Chapter 1: Remembrance and Other Such Expository Nonsense  
  
It was six o'clock, in the dead of winter. He looked around at the lightly falling snow, his big eyes reflected as he trudged under a streetlamp. It had been a long time since it had been cold enough to snow, he thought, a couple of years, at the least. He liked the snow, thought that it was pretty, and didn't understand why the rest of the world didn't stop to appreciate things like he did. It wasn't like it happened every day.   
  
Thanks to the lovely miracle of Daylight Savings Time, it was already dark outside by the time he got home. Squee kicked the door of his now dilapidated, rickety house open and walked in, slinging his black backpack at the couch and walking through the gloom and shadows.   
  
"I'm home," he said, passing the wall where Shmee was nailed to the wall in a manner not unlike Nailbunny, except the stuffed bear also had nails through both of his eyes. He paused momentarily, his head cocking to the side, much as he used to do when he was a child. He studied Squee for a moment appraisingly, then turned away.   
  
"You can get your own damn self off that nail, for all I care. You know how I feel about pity- especially for something that tried to eat my _imagination_ for longer than I can remember."  
  
He stopped at the door of his parents' bedroom, leaning in the doorway, and turned on the light. The room was a mess. The floor was covered with several large bloodstains, the walls were chipped and cracked, and several torture instruments were scattered here and there. Under the harsh electric glare, Squee blinked a few times and looked at the far wall. Mr. and Mrs. Casil were there, chained to the ceiling, blindfolded and gagged. He smiled slowly at the sight of them. He was a tall, thin boy, just a little more solid than Nny, wearing black jeans and a white - slightly bloodspotted- undershirt with a short sleeved black open button-down shirt over it, and steel-toed combat boots. He wore leather fingerless gloves and his black hair was short and spiky on top, long and hung into his eyes in the front, and streaked erratically with electric blue and blood red dye. He had several old scratches still evident on his face, and one scar just under and running parallel to both eyes. Speaking of his eyes, they were deceptively naive looking, as large as they were when he was a child, and dark blue. They had an unsettling habit of seeming to look into your soul.   
  
"I'm home, mom and dad." His parents stiffened in fear at the sound of his eerily cold yet childishly innocent voice. "Oh, don't worry," he continued. "I'm just here to talk. It's such a nice cold night, I don't think I could bear to stay in. It's snowing, did you know that? It's been so long since it's snowed... " he sighed contentedly. "Today's a special day. Do you know what today is? Oh, of course not. What am I thinking? You never remembered before. Well, seeing as that you still don't know, I'll tell you."   
  
He drew closer to his parents as he spoke, pulling a knife out of the wall as he walked and studying the blade intently. He spit on the knife and polished it with his shirttail, examined it again, then turned his attention back to his parents.   
  
"Today's my birthday..." he mused quietly. His parents pulled away on their chains, startled by the closeness of his voice. He tossed the knife onto the nearby nightstand, chuckling. "I'm seventeen this year. Only one more year," he paused, growing serious, looking at them both. "One more year, and then I won't need to keep you alive anymore. Won't it be nice to finally die? Especially after all you've been through?" His eyes grew cold, and his mouth hardened. " 'All _you've_ been through'," he mocked himself. "All the things you did to me as a child. Everything you said. The cigarette burns. The beatings. The little 'accidents'. The verbal degradation. Just simply not giving a damn about me!" His voice was starting to tremble in rage. "You're lucky you didn't get worse than you got! You _do_ realize this is all your fault, don't you? 'What goes around comes around'," he quoted. "I didn't have to hate you. I didn't hate you. You _made_ me hate you. You didn't give me a reason to give a _damn_ about you. And now look at me!"   
  
He strode over to his parents and ripped their blindfolds off. "_Look_ at me! Look at what _you_ helped create!"  
  
They blinked, unused to the light and terrified out of their wits. They stared at their son, whom they hadn't actually seen with their eyes in three weeks, since he very rarely took the blindfolds off, and their son looked back at them, hate shining out of his eyes. Mrs. Casil was shaking. He noticed this as she let out a small sob. Squee sidled up to his mother and embraced her in a mock hug, even as she tried to get away from him.   
  
"Don't cry, mom. It'll all be over sooner than you think. A year'll fly by in no time," Squee murmured soothingly, and then shoved her away from him, knocking her into his father in his sudden violence.   
  
"No more fucking around this time next year," he said, pacing back and forth, an insane grin spreading across his face. "No more pretending to be serious, none of this torture shit. None of it!" he yelled suddenly, making his parents jump. "You'll be gone... and I'll be _free_."  
  
Squee shoved their blindfolds back on and stalked out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. He was about to rummage through the fridge when a bloodcurdling scream started up next door only to fade into gurgling, wet noises. Squee glanced out the window and smiled, a real genuine smile.   
  
"Nny must be home."  
  
Working his way through the tunnel that Johnny had reopened when he had come back, Squee remembered that fateful day when he had returned. It had been on his tenth birthday...  
  
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"Daddy, stop! You're hurting me!"  
  
"You little bastard! You ruined my life! I'll show you what pain is!" *THWACK* "I don't know why-" *THWACK* "you don't understand-" *THWACK* "such a simple concept! You were a mistake! We should have killed you at birth!" *THWACK* "Pain is knowing that you'll never get ahead in life," *THWACK* "because of one mistake," *THWACK* "that I made ten years ago!"  
  
Squee collapsed onto the floor as his father continued to beat him. His mother wandered into the room, a vacant, blissed-out look on her face, clearly either high, drunk, or most likely both.   
  
"Mommy, help me!"   
  
She looked at him dimly. "Who are you?"  
  
Squee started to cry, sobbing into the carpet as his father continued to curse and occasionally kick him in the side. He looked up at his father through eyes full of tears, watched as he raised his arm to hit him especially hard. Suddenly someone grabbed Squee's father's arm from behind and twisted it violently backward. Mr. Casil screamed as it snapped, the bone ripped through his muscles and skin, blood gushed everywhere, and he promptly passed out from the pain. Squee's mom fainted at the sight of the blood. Johnny switched from his grip on Squee's dad's now useless arm to his neck, pulled a knife from his boot, and cocked it back to gut Mr. Casil.   
  
Squee recovered from his initial shock of seeing 'the scary neighbor man' back, and about to kill his father, and yelled, "Stop!"  
  
Johnny looked at Squee like *he* was the crazy one. "What the- Squeegee, why?! You don't have to take this shit from them. I should've done this a long time ago, and not let them get to this extreme."  
  
Squee got up, wincing slightly. "They're my parents. And no matter how horrible they are, I can't live without them."   
  
He walked toward Johnny painfully, trying not to cry from both relief and pain. Somehow he knew that now, with Johnny back, things were going to change for him. Squee stood in front of him as Johnny let his father fall to the floor, one of his hands and most of his shirtfront splattered with blood. Looking down on his father's prone form bleeding all over the hardwood floor, Squee felt such a surge of rage he nearly growled. Like hitting the rewind button on a movie, his brain went back, back, back over the years, all the abuse his parents had heaped on him, both physically and emotionally. Hardly thinking, he picked up a shard of broken glass that was lying on the floor and stared at his face reflected in it. He remembered how the mirror had broken, his father had gotten drunk and thrown Squee into it one night a few weeks ago. His eyes narrowed, and his hand went automatically to the long thin scar that ran under his eyes and across his nose, remembering the pain. One smaller shard had _rolled_ over his face with the momentum of his fall, nearly cutting his face open. It had hurt so _badly_.  
  
Johnny stood by quietly, just looking at the young boy. By the sudden play of emotions across Squee's face, he could tell something was happening inside his head at that time. The screws were coming undone, Johnny could tell.   
  
Still gazing at the sharp piece of glass, Squee saw a skinny, undernourished boy with bruises and scars on his face, but with some new awareness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Squee allowed himself a small smile, the beginnings of the insane grin he would later acquire, and threw the glass on the floor, shattering it even further. His father twitched.  
  
Squee looked up at Johnny. "Like I said, I can't live without them. At least, not until I turn eighteen."  
  
Johnny smiled and ruffled his hair in an almost paternal fashion, smearing blood through Squee's black hair. It dripped slowly over his scalp and down his forehead, over his cheeks in thin red streams, into the scar, over his lips and chin to form little pools of red on the shoulders and neck of his t-shirt.   
  
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Squee smiled as the memory faded. Since that day, Nny had been his father figure, his constant companion, and his only friend. It wasn't Johnny's fault Squee had become so angry, Squee knew. Nny had tried to keep him as sane as possible, but by that time, it was too little, too late. Squee had already snapped somewhere on the inside. So, knowing that Squee was determined to share his pain with the world and not wanting him to get caught at it, Nny taught him everything he knew, so that by now, Squee was almost as ruthless and efficient a killer, and only a little less insane. They were so similar in their techniques and methods, the police thought it was the same killer. The police were constantly confused by horrible murders that happened almost simultaneously in opposite parts of the city. Then again, their police weren't hard to confuse.  
  
Squee shoved aside a body that was blocking the entrance to Nny's house, and emerged into the tenth level basement; a room where people were hung from the ceiling to await their respective fates. He looked up at the crowd, grinning his most insane grin. Squee loved this idea of this room, even though he didn't much like it when the victims looked him in the eyes. He still had problems with guilt, the only reason why he didn't keep victims alive for extended periods of time, or take them home with him. His parents were the only live-in victims he'd ever had. Squee paused by a teenage girl hanging upside down, her mascara running up her face into her long blond hair, which was also hanging straight down. She looked vaguely familiar to him, he thought, and a few moments later he made the connection. She was one of the cheerleaders at his high school. She was the one who had called him and a few of the other nonsocial boys 'eighth grade, greasy haired, stuck in the eighties, D&D spewing, jacking off to taped Spice Girls concerts Goth wannabes' and had specified him as a 'deformed freak-geek'. Leaning over, he smiled warmly at her.   
  
"That's a good look for you. Although, _I_ think you would look better crying blood tears out of empty eye sockets. Maybe I'll make a suggestion to the management," he whispered to her. She turned her face to the side and started crying softly.   
  
"Squee? That you?"  
  
Straightening up, he called back sarcastically, "No, it's the incredibly inept police. We've removed our heads from our asses long enough to drool over some scantily clad twelve year old prostitute crossing the street, and then happened to look up as you committed some horrendous act in front of our fucking faces. We found some dead people a few _days_ later, and then after a few *months* of detective work, the psychic network said to check here, so here we are!"  
  
Nny came out of the adjoining room, blood dripping from his hands and leaving a trail of red drops behind him. "Really, Squee, such a mind in such a young boy. I didn't raise you to be like that."   
  
Squee arched an eyebrow. "Yes, you did," he replied bluntly.  
  
"Hm. Well, at least you're good at it.." Nny shook his hands off, splattering blood everywhere. "So what's new with you?"  
  
Squee lifted both eyebrows this time. "I thought you of all people would remember what day it was," he said, collapsing onto a big brown couch Johnny had in this room for some reason.   
  
"Hmmm..." Johnny trailed off, eyes rolling upwards as he thought. "Friday?" he offered, a grin snaking it's way across his face. "I'm just teasing, Squee. I wouldn't forget your birthday. I even got you something."   
  
"Really?! What?" Squee said, his eyes lighting up and wiggling happily in his seat.  
  
Johnny chuckled. "Hold on, let me go get it." He walked into the next room, and Squee heard him go upstairs. A few moments later, he walked back down and back into the room, handed Squee a box with a black bow on it, and perched himself on the arm of the couch.   
  
"How festive," Squee remarked, looking at the bow, then untying it and opening the box. He lifted out a black button down shirt that had 'Gone The Way Of My Sanity' on the back in white letters. "Oh, thanks, Nny!"  
  
"I knew you liked the T-shirt I have, so I went to the copy place and had them screen it on an actual 'shirt' shirt, since I know you like those better than T-shirts," Nny said, pleased with the reception his present got. Squee pulled off his black button down that he was wearing at the moment and cast it to the side. Johnny's eyes narrowed as this action revealed some of the multiple scars that criss-crossed his teenage friend's arms and back. He had always felt guilty that he had been gone while Squee had had to undergo so much pain.   
  
Squee noticed the look on Nny's face as he shrugged on his new shirt. "Johnny," he said, and Nny looked up at him. "It's okay. You didn't know, and beating yourself up about it now won't do anyone any good. Hey, at least you came back when you did."   
  
Johnny shrugged and replied, "Yeah, I know. Doesn't keep me from feeling shitty about it, though." Changing the subject, he said, "Hey, you should meet this new girl that works down at the copy place. She's our type o'people."   
  
Squee leaned back. "Is she cute?"   
  
Johnny rolled his eyes. "Why is it that I could never get that need for outward attractiveness out of your system? Yeah, I guess you would consider her cute. Kind of like..." Johnny looked up at the hanging people, and pointed to one hanging up in the corner. "Like that kind of cute."  
  
Squee looked up at the girl, and made a face. "Not really my type, then."   
  
"Squee, you've never dated *anyone*. How can you have a type?"   
  
He rolled his eyes. "A technicality."  
  
"Just meet this girl before you make any snap decisions about her, would you?" Nny said.   
  
"Yeah, sure, since nothing else will please you. What's her name?"  
  
"Angel."  
  
End part 1  
  
Yay! See, I think that was a bit better than the first- or second- version. I put in a little more background info as to why Squee hates his parents so much, and I'll get into that some more later. Angel was actually mentioned in this chapter, yayers, and next chapter will contain a little Johnny+Devi, a little more Squee+Angel, and some insights into Nny's past, I hope. Please review!! I don't know what to write if you don't review my stuff. 


	2. Jaded Reality

Author's Notes: I KNOW!!! Nny *is* missing something! Actually, I did that on purpose. So cool that people noticed. You all are right, Johnny is missing something in his whole, uhrm, Johnny-ness, and there's a good reason for that. I'll probably get to explaining that in the next chapter or so. This isn't going to have much to do with the other characters, you know, the ones that aren't mine, but this will have a lot to do with progressing the plot and introduces Angel and Squee's weird relationship. Don't worry, though, you purists. Not fluffy, not in the least bit. Well, okay, a little bit o' fluff. But you can deal, right?  
  
Disclaimer: I own no one but Angel at the moment, so you can't sue! Neener neener! ::sticks tongue out::  
  
Desires Of The Mind  
  
Nny'sFallenAngel  
  
Chapter 2: Jaded Reality  
  
Blue eyes... blue eyes... blue... red? Screams. Red! Blood!   
  
Angel shrieked, bolting upright in her four poster bed. Breathing hard, she surveyed the room with her eyes still wide in fright, trying hard to remember her dream. It was all in vain, though, because as always she could only recall a pair of blue eyes in the shadows, then blood. Horrible amounts of blood, and it was all over her... her gaze landed on the digital clock on her dresser and she groaned, falling back on her pillow with a _whump_. It was four thirty-two in the morning.   
  
The hall light flicked on.   
  
"Angelica?" It was her mother. Angel winced inwardly. She hated it when her mom used her full name. "What's wrong, mijita?" her mom continued drowsily, sticking her head in the door.  
  
"Nothing, I'm fine. Just a nightmare."  
  
"Again?" A sigh from her mother. "Do you need anything?"  
  
"No. Go back to sleep, mom," Angel said flatly, and the hall light clicked off. She waited until her mother's footsteps faded away, the bedroom door closed, and the rythmic sound of snoring filtered through the wall her bedroom shared with her parents' room before throwing back the bedsheets and getting up. Angel rummaged in her closet quietly, picking out a pair of black jeans and a black tank top and throwing them onto her bed. She tiptoed across the room to retrieve her blue down jacket from where it hung on a lamp, then quickly got dressed and ran a comb through her hair.   
  
For two consecutive months she'd been having nightmares, always ending the same way, with a flash of blue eyes, screams, and huge quantities of blood being spilled all over her. She could never fully distinguish if it was her blood, or perhaps someone else's, but she knew the screams were hers. Angel pondered the possible things that could have triggered this sudden bout of nightmares as she brushed her teeth and washed her face, taking care to keep the water running low so as not to wake her parents. Could it be because she had an unhealthy obsession with the macabre? She had always been fascinated with death, and she supposed this could be her subconscious' way of telling her that it was too much. Angel shook that thought off, drying her face off with a big fluffy towel. She didn't think that was the reason. There had to be some other explanation. Something had impacted her, she thought, and had jumpstarted this reaction. Angel refused to believe they were premonitions, though, as some of her friends had volunteered that they might be. She didn't believe in the supernatural at all, and probably never would. Angel racked her brain, thinking back to two months ago as she brushed her hair, put it in a ponytail, and stuck it through the back of a black baseball cap. And for some reason she remembered, with startling clarity, the skinny guy who had come in with that shirt. The memory hit her like a lightening bolt, and she almost recoiled as she recalled his features, his hair, his clothes. His clothes had been what really caught her attention- well, no, actually his hair had. How many people a day does one see with blue hair?- but anyway, his clothes, because there was something that looked vaguely like dried blood on his shirt sleeves.   
  
He'd seemed like a nice enough guy- Johnny, Angel remembered. He'd said his name was Johnny.   
  
She hadn't noticed at the time, but now that she thought of it, he seemed- somewhat- familiar. Almost as if she'd met him before. Angel shook off the feeling of deja vu, knowing it was probably all in her head, knelt down next to her bed, and felt around until she touched leather. She carefully drew the leather sheath out from under her bed and strapped it to the inside of her forearm. She didn't bother opening it, she already knew what was inside: a six-inch carbon steel blade attached to a balanced metal handle. Angel knew these streets at night- they were dangerous.  
  
She had gotten into the habit of sneaking out of the house every night after one of her nightmares, taking a walk for a couple of hours until she unwound. If she returned at dawn she'd still be back before her parents had woken up, and even if she wasn't, they didn't question her. They probably thought she had been out doing laps around the neighborhood or something.  
  
Angel had gotten to appreciate the city at night- early morning, actually- the sounds, the cool feeling of the black pre-dawn. Sure, there was the occasional freak wandering the streets, looking for either a quick fix or a quick fuck. They were easy to avoid.  
  
But then again, there were the more dangerous members of society, the ones that *weren't* so easy to avoid. The ones looking for neither fix nor fuck. The ones that answered to a deeper need.  
  
Angel shivered unconsciously as she stepped outside.   
  
Bloodlust.   
  
Like the ones going around committing those murders, the real pros. The police continued to think it was only one person.   
  
Angel snorted derisively. Yeah, right. The police didn't even have any leads as to who it was, or as Angel thought, who _they_ were.   
  
Her thoughts turned back to Johnny. He _had_ been nice, there was no question. He had even offered to introduce her to one of his younger friends. He had been so nice, in fact, that Angel hadn't felt like turning him down, and since she _was_ single, she really didn't see any reason to. So, she had given him her number to give to the boy in question. Johnny had assured her that the guy was just turning seventeen, and that the shirt Johnny was getting screened was his birthday present. Soon after, he had left, and soon after that, she had gotten a call from this guy.   
  
She smiled a bit in spite of herself. Todd, or Squee as he preferred to be called, had been so shy that first time they'd talked. She'd had a hard time to get him to really talk, to open up a little. But by the time they'd had to hang up, Angel and Squee had been talking like old friends. She was getting a little worried now, though. They'd been talking together for about two weeks, but they'd never had a chance to meet since Angel had to work and sometimes Squee had things to do. Angel was worried that maybe, when they finally did meet, he wouldn't like her. It was a stupid thought, she knew, since they got on really well together on the phone, but she also knew there was an inexplicable difference to talking on the phone and talking face to face.   
  
Besides, she consoled herself, if he wasn't a complete jerk, he'd like her no matter what she looked like. Musing, she lost track of time, wandering aimlessly about, lost in her thoughts.   
  
A soft, continuous scraping sound suddenly interrupted her thoughts, and she whirled around, noting too late that the side street she was now walking down was poorly lit by one flickering streetlight about fifteen yards away, not to mention completely empty.   
  
Well, fuck, she thought, tensing her left arm.   
  
The soft scraping sound abruptly stopped and was replaced by one soft but distinctive thump coming from her right. Angel bent her knees slightly, knowing that the thump could have been a diversionary tactic to fool her into turning that way. Another soft thump came from the shadows directly in front of her. Fighting to keep her cool, she clenched her left fist, the muscles in her arm triggering the spring on the sheath on her right forearm. The knife popped out of her right sleeve, and after months of practice and conditioning, she caught it on reflex. Angel tensed up slightly, lowering her body even further into a defensive position. She relaxed her shoulders slightly as a low chuckle rolled out of the shadows on her left, and a dim figure moved out of the deep shadow of an apartment building.   
  
"Can you actually use that thing?" the figure said in what was unmistakably a young male voice.  
  
She regulated her breathing, knowing that if she panicked now, she was dead. "Well enough," she replied.  
  
The guy cocked his head, moving further out of the shadows. "How... unique."   
  
"What makes you say that?" Control, she thought desperately, trying to keep her knees from shaking. Stay in control of yourself.  
  
The guy stepped forward, now only two yards away from her, stepped forward again, now only a yard and a half. "It's just that, there you stand, completely terrified, and yet the instinct for self-preservation is so strong that you're holding your fear in check long enough to attempt to hold a conversation with me, hoping, I guess, that I'll lose interest in you, or that I'll become distracted enough to allow you to escape. And if that doesn't happen, I suppose you'd even try to fight me."  
  
"And what do you think my chances are, should it come to that?" she asked, carefully modulating her voice to a pitch that didn't betray her nervousness.  
  
The guy smiled, and looked her directly in the eyes, his large blue eyes- she started slighty and squeezed the hilt of the knife- catching the dim light of the street lamp and shining. "Your chances?" He seemed to consider the question, and then grinned at her, actually more a smirk than a grin. "Slim to none."  
  
Angel sucked in a breath, holding it momentarily, then let it go. "I think you're underestimating me."  
  
"Really..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He nodded almost thoughtfully. "You've got some nerve. I like that. And chances are, you won't tell anybody about me, will you? Something tells me you're not supposed to be here."  
  
He had her there, she had to admit. She couldn't tell anyone, because then she'd have to explain what she was doing out so late, and that would create all sorts of other problems... oh, boy. Angel narrowed her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of having one over on her.   
  
He smirked again. "Thought so. I'll let you off this once, girl. Just because I admire the fact you've got guts enough to stand up to me, doesn't mean I wouldn't see those same guts stretched across a rack."  
  
"Is that a challenge?" Angel retorted boldly, somewhat pissed off that this unknown guy would presume to order her around.   
  
"If you want to take it that way," he answered coolly. "I'd prefer to think of it as... for your own protection."  
  
"I don't need you to protect me," she said, tightening her grip on her knife.   
  
He tilted his head to the side and took another step toward her. "Oh, you don't, do you? Ssshhh. Listen."  
  
In the distance, she could faintly hear a moan gradually turn into a scream only to be cut off abruptly. Angel suppressed a shudder- and suddenly found herself pressed against the apartment wall, one of his hands on her throat, the other on her knife-arm. Her eyes widened in fear as she stared at him. She could now see the scars on his young face- one long, thin scar stretching all the way across his face, underneath his amazingly blue eyes, dozens of other old scratches scattered across his face.  
  
"See?" he squeezed lightly, then let go of her throat, pinning her shoulder instead and keeping a firm grip on her arm.   
  
Angel felt paralyzed, the electricity in his brilliant blue eyes was so strong. "Yeah, I see," she managed weakly.   
  
"There's things out there that aren't as nice as I am..." he paused, and softly and almost wonderingly ran the fingers of his right hand down the side of her face briefly. She shivered, and he continued, "and I'm not nearly as nice as I'm being right now. Now leave, before I change my mind." He let go of her and turned away, seeming to just fade back into the shadows.   
  
Angel waited a few seconds, and then visibly relaxed, letting out a big breath she had been holding in.   
  
"Whoa..." she murmured to herself, hand to her face. His touch had almost seemed to burn, but now that she thought of it, she had hardly really felt his fingers. Heart still pounding, Angel sheathed her knife, and walked quickly back the way she came. It was already starting to get light out as she snuck back into her house.   
  
"Thank God school's out for Christmas break," Angel groaned as she collapsed onto her bed. "I don't think I could take anything more today."  
  
******  
  
Johnny met Squee in front of house 777 just before daybreak.   
  
"So, how was your night?" Johnny asked, wiping some blood off his face with the bottom of his shirt.   
  
Squee shrugged. "It was okay."  
  
Nny raised an eyebrow. "_Just_ okay?"  
  
Squee sighed. "I saw Angel again."  
  
"Oohh," Nny said, understanding.  
  
"Yeah... I kinda... umm," he looked at the ground guiltily, "talked to her. Personally."  
  
Nny looked at him, shocked. "What?"  
  
"I had to!" Squee replied defensively. "She was getting way too close to that freak on Thirty-Second who thinks he's a vampire. I had to do something!"  
  
"What'd you do?"  
  
He looked down. "I tried to scare her into not coming out at night again... I don't think it worked, though."  
  
"Shit... this is bad. Did she recognize your voice?"   
  
"No," Squee said. "I don't think so."  
  
"Damn, Squee," Johnny said. "You do realize you just royally screwed yourself over?"  
  
"What? Why?"   
  
"If she ever sees you again, she's going to recognize you. No question about it, she will."  
  
Squee groaned in realization. "Dammit..."  
  
Nny nodded. "This verges on deep psychological trauma, should you ever tell her who you really are."  
  
"Well, she didn't seem all that scared, really... and when I touched her face, she actually seemed-"  
  
"You _touched_ her? Holy fuck, Squee..." He shook his head in consternation, the gesture of a disapproving parent.  
  
"I couldn't help it, believe me. I tried. She just..." Squee sighed. "Never mind. It's stupid."  
  
Johnny looked at him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "She makes you want to... to live a normal life, doesn't she? Give this all up, and just be a seventeen year old kid for a change- not some threat in the shadows. To be open to touching and feeling and living in the sunlight instead of..." he sighed, pulling Squee into a brief one-armed hug. "I knew that I shouldn't have let you give in to your rage. And I'm sure I wasn't the greatest role model."  
  
Squee looked up at him. "Nny... there was nothing you could have done." He squeezed Johnny's arm before stepping away towards his own house. "Besides... you were a better father to me than my own ever was."  
  
Johnny watched him as he walked up his front steps and let himself into the old house. The door closed behind him, and Nny shook his head a bit regretfully, his mind still wandering in the past as he turned to go into his own house.  
  
The sun came up slowly over the horizon as his door clicked shut.  
  
***  
  
Devi and Tenna are coming, I promise! I just wanted to say thank you for all the great reviews I've gotten. Love y'all!! Review? I'll bribe ya! But not with money, I'm broke. ::hands out candy to all reviewers:: 


	3. Reunions and Strange Coincidences

Author's Notes: I LIVE!!!!! Yeee!! More! I think this is the longest ongoing fic I'm ever gonna have, ha. Finally! Devi and Tenna! Woo! Finally- plot development! Yeah! Wow, speaking in exclamation points is catchy. But, that's not the point! AGGH! There's another one! EEE! They're stalking me!! GET THEM AWAY!!!! ::bats exclamation points away frantically and falls over::  
  
Disclaimer: Sh'yeah, right, I own them. ::rolls eyes:: Or not. Everything belongs to Jhonen but Angel and the plot. The Child-Snatcher bit was inspired by a Dreamtime panel in Squee! #2.   
  
Desires Of The Mind  
  
Nny'sFallenAngel  
  
Chapter 3: Reunions and Strange Coincidences  
  
Squeek. Squeek. Squeek. Squeek-squeek.  
  
Devi dropped her paintbrush in the water, watching the blue paint come off the brush in spirals and waves. If she concentrated hard enough on the patterns in the water, the sound of her own thoughts could almost drown out the-  
  
Squeek. Squeek. Squeeeek. Squeek. Squeeky-squeek.   
  
Fuck. That's it.   
  
"Dammit, Tenna!" Devi yelled, her patience at it's end. "If you squeak that goddamn thing one more time, I'm gonna donate it to the pound as a chew-toy!"  
  
She listened. Silence.   
  
Then, quietly, in the next room: "She didn't mean it, Spooky."  
  
Devi clutched at her temples, and tapped her head lightly on the wall. Lightly, because she didn't want to give herself a concussion, but considering her roommate's obsession with that damn toy, maybe that would do her a favor. Hmmm... there was an idea. Surely they wouldn't let that thing into a hospital...  
  
Seriously considering the pros and cons of a self-inflicted concussion, Devi was momentarily distracted by the phone ringing. Hopping onto the couch, she reached over and picked it up on the fourth ring.   
  
"City morgue," she said.  
  
"Yeah, uh, I'd like to order a male cadaver for the medical school dissection this week? Preferably a porn star, yeah. Do you have any dead porn stars?"   
  
Devi smiled. "No, sorry, but we're due for a shipment of male models day after tomorrow, you can come by and pick one out."  
  
"Awww... oh, well, I guess a model'll have to do... thanks for your help." The person on the line giggled. "So, what's up, Devi?"  
  
Leaning back, she replied, "Not much. Tenna's been trying to see how close she can get me to the line between sanity and insanity and not push me completely over. How's it going with you, Angel?"  
  
"Eh, I can't complain. I mean, I've got a weird guy on my case warning me never to go out after dark again, or else the really bad things'll get me, but other than that..." Angel trailed off.  
  
Devi snapped to attention at that. "What? What weird guy?"  
  
"Just this one guy who held me up a while ago," she replied nonchalantly, nevertheless enjoying the effect her words had had on Devi. "Warned me that there were worse things out there than him, and that he wasn't really threatening me, he was trying to protect me, that kind of stuff."  
  
"What did he look like? How old was he?" Devi asked, somewhat panicky.  
  
A short silence, and then Angel replied, "I couldn't see him very well, but he looked to be about my age, tall, blue eyes, black spiky hair with some dyed color in it- I couldn't tell which color, it was dark. Something like that."  
  
"You're okay, though?" Devi breathed a silent sigh of relief at the non-Nny description.   
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. He didn't really hurt me."  
  
"...Did you thank him?" Devi said after a moment's thought.  
  
"Um, no, not really. I was a bit stunned. Should I have?"   
  
Devi sighed. "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. But he was right, there are worse things out there than him."  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end. "Yeah, I guess so," Angel replied.   
  
Devi changed the subject rather abruptly. "Sooo... how's Aunt Ramona?"  
  
"Mom? She's okay. Speak of the devil, hold on... what, Ma?" Angel said, obviously talking to her mother. "It's Devi. Yeah, she says hi. Yeah, I'll tell her. Mom says hi back, Devi."  
  
Devi smiled. "We really should get together for dinner sometime soon. You guys are the only family I can actually stand for more than a few minutes at a time."  
  
"That _is_ something to celebrate," Angel agreed. "You want to go out tonight? You, me, and Tenna. We could have a girl's night out, or something."  
  
"I really don't think so, Angel. I mean, the weather report is supposed to suck-"   
  
"Aww, come on Devi," Angel interrupted her. "You've got to get out of that apartment sooner or later. You _know_ you'll kill Tenna if you stay much longer in there with her, and that's a loss the whole world'll mourn. Please? Do it for your favorite cousin?"  
  
"You're my _only_ cousin," Devi replied, rolling her eyes.   
  
"Okay, do it for your only cousin," she amended amicably.   
  
"Hm, let me ponder that for a moment... no."  
  
"Devi! Please! I've got to get out of this house!" Angel pleaded.  
  
"Ahhh, so, the truth comes out!" Devi said triumphantly.  
  
Angel sighed. "Yes, yes, I'm just using you and Tenna to get out of the house because Mom said I need adult supervision when I go out at night."  
  
"And what about your weird scary guy's warning?" Devi queried.   
  
"... if he cares so much, he'll find me again," Angel replied after a moment's hesitation.   
  
Devi raised an eyebrow. "You like him?!"  
  
Angel snorted. "Yeah, ours is a forbidden love," she replied sarcastically. "I never said that I liked him."  
  
"B-u-double l shit, Angel, I can read between the lines. Pursuing a relationship with an umthug is _not_ very advisable, little cousin. I would not recommend it. Besides, aren't you seeing that Todd guy?"  
  
"As well as I can 'see' him over the phone," Angel grumbled. "Besides, who said I was going to 'pursue a relationship' in the first place? I'm not pursuing. What I'm doing is the opposite of pursuing. Call me... the anti-pursuer of relationships with scary dudes. Or you can call me Ishmael, and I can tell you all about this big-ass white whale and this crazy guy who's obsessed with killing it..."  
  
"Mmhmm," Devi murmured, not convinced at all. "Well, okay. We can go out, maybe to a club or something, drive around for a while. As long as it's okay with your mom first."  
  
"Thank you! You're the greatest, you know that?"  
  
"It's been said," Devi responded wryly.   
  
*******  
  
Squee lazed about on the floor of his room, idly picking at the rotting happy face wallpaper that still inhabited the walls. His eyes closed sleepily, and he yawned. A real rainstorm had kicked up outside, lightning, thunder, wind, the whole nine yards. The rain pounded at the rickety roof, dripping in in some places, and the house rocked back and forth comfortingly as it was buffeted by the winds. He checked his watch, and moaned slightly. It was barely ten past ten, and he was already getting sleepy, not to mention bored. In the next room, his mother sobbed quietly, providing a nice counterpoint to the steady rhythm of the storm. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander free... bump.  
  
His eyes snapped open.  
  
There was another small thump from his closet.  
  
Curious, he got up, and cautiously approached the noise.   
  
Thump, bump, crunch crunch crunch.   
  
He reached for the door knob, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly. His hand hovered over it for an instant, and he swallowed slowly, mentally preparing himself for anything he might find on the other side of the door, before grabbing it and pulling it wide open.   
  
The Child-Snatcher looked at him, big eyes wide open in consternation as it chewed slowly on the toddler in its mouth. It swallowed, then, looking anxiously at Squee, whispered, "I making too much noise?"  
  
Squee stood there, dumbfounded, both eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. It occurred to him that he had been asked a question. "Uh... yeah. A little."  
  
It blinked at him and pulled another kid from the bunch it carried. "Sorry."  
  
He nodded. "S'okay..." Squee closed the door, still in slight shock, and decided it was a good time to go over and see what Johnny was doing.   
  
As he was hopping the fence that divided his yard from Johnny's, Squee suddenly had it. The very thing! What a way to jumpstart his system!   
  
Nny jumped, startled, as a drenched, dripping, wild-eyed Squee burst through his front door, accompanied by an impressive flash of lightning. His eyes, already big, seemed impossibly large with evident emotion, and he grinned at Johnny happily. An especially loud rumble of thunder punctuated his expression.   
  
"You have the look," Nny remarked, only slightly impressed by the theatrics, "of a person who thought he'd ran out of nachos, then discovered a hidden underground nacho cave." He poked at the roach on the floor in front of him with his dagger.   
  
Slightly thrown off by this Johnny-ism, Squee pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, a bit of confusion obvious in his eyes. "Umm.. yeeaah... But anyways, Nny: I've had the best idea I've had in a while. Something... different."  
  
Johnny looked up from teasing Mr. Samsa with a knife point, curious. "Pray, do tell."  
  
"How do you feel about... going to a club?"  
  
Nny lifted an eyebrow in response, nodding his head and grinning slightly to show his approval. "Sounds good. Surprisingly good."   
  
He picked himself up off the floor, and slung his trenchcoat on. Squee accompanied him downstairs, picking out some essentials and slipping them into his coat pockets as Nny did the same. The left the house together, two dark shapes fading into the deeper black of the storm.   
  
"By the way, Squeegee, that was an _exceptional_ entrance."  
  
A modest shrug. "I do what I can."  
  
Beat. "Nny?"  
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"... There's a monster in my closet."  
  
"... Neat."  
  
*******  
  
The techno song pounded deep into their bones and eardrums as Devi, Angel, and Tenna flailed about frantically on the dance floor, trying to simultaneously dance and resist the conflicting surges of people trying to either get on or leave the dance floor.   
  
Tenna fanned her hand across her face, breathing hard. "I'm gonna go get a drink, you want something?"   
  
"Nothing for me, thanks," Angel yelled over the noise.   
  
Devi only shook her head no, too immersed in the beat. The two girls continued to writhe and thrash on the dance floor as Tenna fought her way to the bar, too into the music to notice the dark shape climbing up the gigantic amp, or the second dark shape entering the DJ booth.   
  
Nothing seemed any different for a few seconds, and then all of a sudden, the bass got turned up. Way up. Those closer to the amps were brought to their knees as the crushing waves of sound swept over them. Angel cried out in pain, palms pressed over her ears, and Devi dragged her backward, forcing a way through those that were cringing or twitching in agony on the floor. The lightbulbs that provided the dim light in the club shattered, raining sharp glass on those underneath them, and the club was pitched into darkness. The volume kept increasing, until the walls started to crack in places and people started to burst blood vessels in important places, beginning the horribly slow process of bleeding to death internally. Some people's heads exploded, the pounding sound waves were so strong. Devi pushed Angel down behind the bar, and crouched down herself. Tenna quickly joined then, hands over her ears as well.  
  
Suddenly it stopped.   
  
The silence, in comparison with the din that had been occuring moments before, was deafening, broken only by the whimpers and sobs of the wounded, and the gush of blood from the already dead.   
  
"Ugh... ow... wha- what happened?" Angel said, rubbing her head and trying to get up on one knee.   
  
"I don't-" Devi started to reply, when one small light flicked on directly over the amp and two dark shapes seemingly appeared out of nowhere on top of it. She stifled a gasp as the taller shape stepped forward into the light, and revealed a face that was unmistakable, even after all these years. The circles under his eyes were darker, and his hair now had two longer spikes sticking out of the rest of it, somewhat reminiscent of antennae, but the face was the same.  
  
It was Nny.   
  
"Hey, Devi," Tenna whispered. "Isn't that-"  
  
"Johnny!" Angel burst out, shocked. "I know him! He's the one that introduced me to Squee!"  
  
"Shhhh," she whispered back harshly, somewhat surprised at both the fact that her cousin knew the homicidal maniac, and the flood of emotions welling up inside of her. None of them was the hate that she had expected. Rather, she was hit by a rush of shock at seeing him for the first time in years, slight anger to know that he was still up to his old tricks, and a feeling she couldn't quite figure out. It felt curiously like relief.  
  
A slightly shorter, definitely younger boy that Devi didn't recognize stepped into the light beside him, eyeing the crowd. His eyes were large, almost too blue to be believed, and there was an impressive scar that ran parallel underneath both eyes and over his nose. His son? Devi wondered, with a stab of... jealousy? No, of course not.   
  
Angel made a noise Devi couldn't identify. "That's him! That's the one that held me up that one time!"   
  
The younger boy stepped in front of Nny, crouched down and clutched the edge of the amp in both hands in the manner of a gargoyle on a cathedral roof. He stared down at the bloody mess on the floor impassively, then turned his eyes on those that were still alive. His gaze flicked back to Johnny. Devi waited expectantly for the longwinded speech that was so characteristically Johnny, but was surprised when he smiled pleasantly, almost sanely, at the boy in front of him.   
  
"I love that song," Nny said, conversationally. "I liked it before the band actually ever became famous, but then when they hit that one gold streak, suddenly everyone was their biggest fan." He finally looked at the crowd, stepping forward and to the side around the crouching boy, and raised his voice to them. "Is everybody enjoying the music? Having a good time?"  
  
Whimpers and moans, sobbing and tears answered his question.   
  
He grinned at the mass of people below him, and threw open his trenchcoat. Several people gasped, others just stared in horror, others began to back up and search for a way to run, because contained within were the most knives and sharp implements any of them had ever seen concealed on one person before. He detached a few from his person, and tossed the boy a pair of foot long scythes, keeping two fourteen inch hooked blades for himself. The boy stood slowly, a malevolent grin spreading across his face that scared everyone worse than the sight of the blades had.   
  
"Oh my God," Angel breathed, stunned, "they're going to kill everybody."  
  
Tenna shuddered.   
  
Johnny paused, as if he meant to say more. Then, with one fluid movement, he flipped forward off the twenty-five foot high amp, and landed on a man's shoulders with both feet, crushing him. Blood squirted and intestines exploded, spattering Johnny.   
  
For a second, no one moved, shocked.   
  
Then everyone went apeshit.   
  
Everyone was running, screaming, trying to escape through doors that had been locked and chained from the outside. Angel, Devi, and Tenna stayed where they were, trying to keep an eye on both of the killers at once. In the younger one's case, this wasn't hard to do, as he had remained on top of the amp so far, watching Johnny with a smile on his face.   
  
Devi shuddered. The boy gave her the creeps. He was so cold, it was like he wasn't even human. Like he didn't view them as human, either. And that scar- she'd never seen one like it. It unnerved her.  
  
Keeping an eye on Johnny, however, was a bit of a problem. He moved almost too fast to see, and with a fluid grace and strength that startled her. Sometimes, the only way they knew where he was was by listening for the screams of pain and looking for the fountains of blood. If not for the vicious acts he was engaged in at that moment, she could've admired the way he controlled his body. There was little or no wasted movement to his actions.   
  
Behind her, Angel gasped. "He's gone."  
  
Devi's eyes shot back up to the amp. The boy was gone, it was true, two long rips in the amp's speaker cloth showing how he had gotten down so quickly. "Where is he?" She looked around for him quickly.  
  
"I don't see him," Tenna said, breathing a little faster.   
  
They heard screams and the unmistakable sound of ripping flesh behind them, but the second they turned, he had gone already. What was left of a man and a woman were on the floor amid puddles of blood and gore. The younger one's style was a bit different, employing a spinning flailing motion that employed nearly all his limbs, all the more deadly for his flexibility and speed. Devi winced as the boy ducked and spun around violently, eviscerating one person while pulling off a spinning back kick, breaking another's jaw. As he came up again, he caught the second person in the brain with both scythes, pulling them out in a spray of blood.   
  
"They're trading off each other, look," Angel said, nudging Devi. Johnny was back on the amp, swinging his legs back and forth like a happy little boy. His clothes were spattered with blood, and his face was smeared with it on one side, and he nodded his head, watching the younger boy take his turn on the crowd. "It's a game."  
  
"There he is," Tenna said, pointing. Devi and Angel looked, right in time to see the boy simultaneously gut and run a frat boy through, and with strength that startled them all, lift the twitching body almost a foot off the floor, still impaled on the blade. It sliced through the still living body like butter, and the corpse dropped to the floor, gushing blood.   
  
Johnny clapped, standing up from his sitting position. "Nicely done, Squee, really artsy. Was that the last of them?"  
  
Angel felt her insides grow numb. Squee? Her Squee? It couldn't be... but then, hadn't that been the very thing she'd been dreading? It made perfect sense that that would be Squee.   
  
The boy straightened up, wiping the blood off his blade. "Looks like it, Nny." He glanced around, and smiled, a genuine smile. "I'd like to congratulate you on a job well done, mi amigo."  
  
It _was_ him. Angel couldn't believe it. The voice- why hadn't she recognized it in the first place? She stood up, angry as hell, picked up a large steak knife from the box of kitchen utensils under the bar, and threw it at him with all her might.   
  
"Angel!" Devi and Tenna exclaimed.   
  
"Squee!" Nny yelled.   
  
Squee, caught off guard, reacted at the last minute and blocked it, deflecting the knife by hitting the flat of the blade with the back of his wrist and pushing it away from his body. It ricocheted off into the darkness and clattered as it hit the floor. Squee, narrowing his eyes angrily, stared at the person who had thrown the knife.   
  
He went white as a sheet, his eyes widening in disbelief, and his face went slack. "Oh, no..." he managed to squeak.   
  
Johnny followed his gaze. "Uh oh-"  
  
She vaulted over the bar, landing on a corpse with a loud squishy noise, her face a mask of female fury. Johnny cringed as she, wrenching herself out of the dead body's chest cavity with a hollow crunch, marched over to Squee and punched him, a hard right cross straight to the cheekbone and a stinging left that cracked him right above the nose. Angel continued the assault, yelling at him, while Squee managed to block most of the hits, taking the ones she landed without complaint.   
  
"I can't believe you _lied_ to me!! You told me so many things about yourself, you told me you'd told me everything there is to know, and I trusted you, and it was all _lies_!! If that weren't enough, then you pull that _crap_ on me the other night- let go of me!!"   
  
Devi and Tenna had run after her as soon as she had landed that first punch, and by now had reached the both of them. Devi had thrown her arms around Angel, trapping her arms to her sides and restraining her. They hauled her a good distance away from Squee, sitting her on a bar stool. She sat there and fumed silently, occasionally glaring at Squee.   
  
Johnny had slid down the amp's side and gone to check on him. He was getting quite a bruise where Angel had landed that first good punch, and his nose was bleeding steadily.  
  
"Damn, Squee," he said softly, pressing a napkin to the nose and tilting his head back, "you really know how to pick'em."  
  
"Id it brokeh?" Squee asked, his eyes closed and not bothering to point out that it had been Nny who convinced him to call her in the first place.   
  
Nny felt the bridge of the nose, running his fingers expertly along the cartilage and applying slight pressure. Squee twitched once. "It's not broken, just a little bit bruised. Keep your head back, that should stop the bleeding in a few minutes."  
  
Devi watched him tend to Squee out of the corner of her eye, intrigued by the image of Nny being tender. She watched him a little longer, torn between running as far away as fast as she possibly could, or... not. He'd tried to kill her, he'd nearly driven her into becoming a hermit, he'd been the finishing blow to anything that could have possibly resembled her social life, and yet there she stood, amid nearly seventy mutilated corpses... *not* hating him. Devi couldn't understand herself.   
  
Your friend thought he could fight, too...  
  
Sickness' words of long ago echoed through her head, making her wonder: what sort of things could have driven him to such madness? And why hadn't he been able to fight them, when she had?  
  
She took a tentative step toward him. He heard the rustle behind him and whirled around, knives pulled out and locked into a defensive position. He was unmistakably ready to protect the boy.   
  
Devi smiled inwardly. He really _had_ changed. There was a new awareness, an umsanity that was in his eyes tonight that had replaced the mindless fervor he'd been in that fateful night ten years ago.   
  
Nny's eyes opened wide in shock as he recognized her, and he dropped a knife. He straightened up, mouth agape, and backed up, nearly tripping over Squee in the process. Devi followed him as he stumbled backwards, never getting closer than fifteen feet, give or take, but never letting him get further away, either.   
  
Angel and Squee were quiet, watching them with interest, not really understanding what was going on, but knowing that it was something big. Tenna also kept quiet, though not really for the same reasons. On the inside, she was cheering Devi on ecstatically.  
  
Johnny finally stopped his backward flight, although he stayed in a slightly defensive position. He hadn't forgotten what had happened last time... but he was also thrilled that Devi was the one seeking him out instead of the other way around.  
  
She allowed a slight smile to come to her face, and he relaxed visibly. Devi nudged a corpse with the toe of her boot, almost shyly.   
  
"Still trying to immortalize the moment, Nny?"  
  
*******  
  
Fin (for now!!)  
  
Ooh, somewhat of a cliffhanger... I know, this ending's weird, but don't worry! The next one won't take as much time as this one did, now that I have all the main characters in the same place, at least. Maybe next chapter will actually have some of the plot development soon... well, one can only hope, eh? I swear, I am going somewhere with all this. Stick with me, and you'll see! Please please review and tell me what y'all think, please?   
  
Oh, by the by... umthug and umsanity? um- means maybe, almost, not quite, not sure, so umsanity- almost sanity, sorta. Picked it up off one of my friends ^_^;; now I can't seem to stop using it. 


	4. The Call, A Resolution, And An Absolutio...

Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for it being so late!! School and Yearbook put me through the wringer this whole quarter. Whoo, this one's on a roll!! I love writing this thing almost as much as I love getting reviews (hint, hint ^_^). This is where everything starts getting weird with plot now. I've put in some nice resolution for the Devi/Nny conflict, and this is the very important introduction to the villain chapter. Guess who it is? Hee, I'm such a tease... go read now!   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing!! Well, okay maybe the plot and any little insignificant people that pop up.   
  
Desires Of The Mind  
  
Nny'sFallenAngel  
  
Chapter 4: The Call, A Resolution, And A Confrontation  
  
Pepito leaned back in his father's chair and put his leather-booted feet up on the desk, staring hard at the cringing demon seated in front of him. He'd grown a lot since he'd gone to school with Squee in the third grade and destroyed the school, grown up- and into a very capable demi-devil. He had shot up, practically overnight, to be almost as tall as his father. His hair was slightly spikier and shorter than he'd had it as a child, though still in the same basic style, and his horns had grown slightly larger and sharper. His eyes had evened out in size, though the irises had remained that same deep red color. Surprisingly, this had become strangely attractive on him, along with the long thick black lashes that had grown in. This strange turn of events- becoming attractive, not the lashes- he had assumed came from his human mother's side of the family.   
  
At this moment, however, his pretty eyes were narrowed in anger as he glared at the K'aos demon writhing in terror before him. The Son of Darkness was pissed- that was never a good thing.   
  
"Now, Bardel'lok," he said evenly, fire smoldering in his eyes- literally-, "I'm going to allow you exactly sixty seconds to explain to me how you could have allowed this to happen. You were directly in charge when this incident occured, so the responsibility, as well as the consequences, rests directly on your shoulders. Your life," Pepito removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward toward Bardel'lok, "depends on how well you explain yourself to me now." He folded his arms and cocked his head expectantly.   
  
The demon sunk into a sort of a half bow, wringing his hands in terror. "Master," Bardel'lok grovelled pitifully, "Master, please, it was not poor, worthless Bardel'lok's fault! Master knows that the traitor has special powers. Bardel'lok left his post for a few minutes to use the Port-O-Let and the traitor talked the other guards into letting him out!"   
  
"Time's up," Pepito said, "and, sadly, I'm _not_ convinced." Bardel'lok whimpered in terror. "You know very well we do not tolerate failure here, and if that wasn't reason enough, you left your post for a personal reason. This is not acceptable." He lifted his hand almost lazily and his eyes flared green for an instant before returning to their natural red.   
  
Bardel'lok began to scream in agony as his violet skin began to sizzle and drip off his body in small rivulets. His eyes rolled back into his sockets as he collapsed on the floor, his skin sloughing off in rivers and dripping into puddles, revealing the red sinew and muscles underneath. The muscles, in turn, began to turn smoke and shrivel, jerking his body back and forth as they snapped and tore from his bones, his screams of agony echoing off the stone walls. Finally, when all the skin had melted off, and all the muscles ripped from their ligaments, his internal organs began to boil and pop under the pressure. His lungs went first, then his spleen, and then his stomach. One by one they bubbled furiously, swelled, and exploded, leaving only his heart, his brain, and his bulbous eyes- still pleading- intact. Pepito looked down at the mess, smiling in satisfaction, and then noticed the organs that were left. He made a fist, staring at the carcass, and nodded when the eyes popped out of their sockets, the heart withered and sunk into the floor, and the brain liquified and ran out the nose cavity in a thick, bloody stream. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, and the bones crumbled to dust instantly, coating the surrounding gore in a yellowish white powder.  
  
Satisfied, Pepito pressed the intercom button. "Suzanne, could you call the janitor? There's quite a mess in father's office."  
  
"Right away, sir," his father's secretary droned through the intercom.   
  
He stood and turned away from the desk, rubbing his eyes and sighing wearily. This was quite a problem... he picked the brief off of his father's desk and read through it again, scanning the more important details:  
  
The traitor they had been referring to was a Harvester that had tried to rebel against his orders. He had been paired up with another, complimentary Harvester and assigned to a certain individual who had had so much potential creativity that it was imperative that they get to him before anyone else. Not to mention, there was quite a force of evil trapped in a wall in one of his basements. The Thinkers had thought to kill two birds with one stone, freeing the demon-lord and harvesting the host's creativity at the same time. The two Harvesters they had sent were in charge of harvesting his mind and then persuading the individual to commit suicide, thus releasing their lord from the cursed dimension where it had been imprisoned for so long. The individual was an almost ideal host: he was quiet, introverted, an artist... the only problem with him was that the same Thinkers that had sent the Harvesters to him had, ironically, previously tagged him as a Waste-Lock. This unfortunately overlooked detail had not been noticed until it was too late. By the time they realized the mistake, it was too late in every sense of the phrase. The overloading had driven him quite insane and he became an extension of all the shit that was pumped into him, using his subverted creativity to think of gruesome ways to brutally murder and torture people who hurt him in any way. Senor Diablo had loved the irony, and respected the man himself as much as the Prince of Evil could respect a mere mortal.  
  
When their task was nearly done, the traitor Harvester had realized he enjoyed life on Earth. He discovered a way to keep the demon-lord imprisoned for a while, and tried to keep the host alive long enough to become fully self-dependent. The loyal Harvester had refused to join him in his treason, and persevered in trying to convince the host to kill himself. Due in part to his insanity, the host became aware of what they were trying to do. Threatening to kill himself, saying that he would do it only to rest, the gun accidentally went off and shot him in the face. He died slowly, unwittingly defeating the traitor Harvester and dooming him to an eternity of imprisonment and torture in Hell. As a reward, the host had been freed of the Harvesters, of the burden of being a Waste-Lock, and sent back to Earth.  
  
During their stay in the host's brain, the Harvesters had been named, and even now, they preferred to be called by these names... Johnny C. had christened them Mr. Fuck, the traitor; and Psycho-Doughboy, the loyalist. Eff had escaped the day before, taking Psycho-Doughboy hostage for reasons unknown.  
  
"Ahh... I wish Father was here to help me with this," Pepito sighed again, tossing the brief back down on the desk. "Of all the times to have a transdimensional crisis, it had to be during Mother and Father's big anniversary vacation."   
  
He cracked his knuckles, stretching his arms, put his hands behind his head and cracked his back. "Ah, well... I suppose I'll wait for a while," he murmured to himself, "See if Eff has some master plan or something, or if he's just decided to escape and torture Psycho-Doughboy for the hell of it..." he rolled his shoulders, sitting back down at the desk. "Either way, we will find him... and when we do..." Pepito allowed himself a low chuckle at what the demons would do to him then.  
  
His pleasant reverie was interrupted by the sound of the intercom beeping. Pepito leaned over and pressed the button. "Yes?"  
  
His secretary's voice droned through, completely monotone as per usual. "Sir, I've been instructed to inform you that The Call has been initiated. Within the next week, all demons, spirits, and forces involved with the human dimension are expected to be within the traitor's control, with few exceptions."  
  
He felt the color leave his face- well, even more so than usual. "Fuck," he replied hollowly.  
  
"Indeed, sir."   
  
She clicked off.   
  
If The Call had been initiated, every 'voice' in the human dimension- all the Harvesters, all the Trauma-Sponges, all the Figments of an otherworldly influence would lose their self-control and be irresistibly drawn under Eff's dominion. With them, he would wield an army so dangerous, so brutal, that he could conquer and control any and every dimension he set his eyes on. Even worse, if he attempted this, the balance between dimensions would be upset, causing the collapse of one or all of them. Pepito slumped back in his chair, overawed at the magnitude of the situation. It would be the end of the world as they knew it...  
  
He reached for the phone and started dialing long-distance as the elderly janitor entered the room. Anniversary or not, he *had* to call Father.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
Angel looked curiously at her cousin and Johnny, her anger at Squee momentarily put aside. How did they know each other? The question nagged at the back of her mind, but she bit her tongue, interested to see how Nny would answer Devi's question.  
  
"Still trying to immortalize the moment, Nny?" What did she mean?  
  
He stared at her, then looked at the ground as if in shame. Almost inaudibly, he mumbled a few words- Angel had to strain to hear them, but they were there-  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Devi."  
  
"Sorry?" Devi's shoulders drooped, and she took a step forward. "Do you have any idea what you did to me, Johnny?"   
  
Nny flinched as though she had hit him.   
  
"You tried to kill me on our first date. You were the last," she chuckled humorlessly, "_incredibly_ violent death spasm of whatever I had resembling a social life. You inadvertantly helped put a vicious dolly who fed off my creativity in my brainmeats. If that wasn't enough, then, ten years after I'd thought I'd finished with you and all the trauma you brought me, you show up here with your protege and nearly kill me and Tenna and Angel. And all you can say is 'I'm sorry?'"   
  
She had kept her voice low, even, and calm throughout her speech, although he could detect a faint undertone of hurt in her voice. Strangely, that wounded him more than anything else possibly could have. He wanted to grab her, shake her, make her angry, to tell her to scream and beat and berate him at the top of her lungs, to do anything except stand there calmly and stare at him with that look in her eyes.   
  
He dropped to his knees in front of her, hands at his sides, pleading. "My God, Devi..." he whispered, a sob growing in his throat, "what else can I possibly say?" He dragged a hand over his face and through his hair, his dark eyes quietly desperate. "I know that you hate me... why don't you show it? Show it, I'm begging you, so that I know how to react. I can't stand the way you look at me. It hurts, it makes me bleed."  
  
Devi sighed. "I don't hate you, Nny." He looked up at her abruptly, shocked. She clarified, "I don't know why I don't, I mean, I certainly have enough incentive to hate you. It's not something I can explain. I just know that I don't."  
  
Angel sat there, shocked, watching the two adults before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Squee staring in her direction. Turning to give him a look, she noticed he wasn't staring _at_ her; rather, he was staring _behind_ her, a blank look on his face. She turned, and promptly realized why. Tenna stood on the bar, wriggling around with Spooky in her version of an ecstatically happy dance.   
  
"Mmmm... yep,"Angel nodded her head before turning back to what the others were doing.   
  
"So... what does that mean? For... us?" Nny was asking.  
  
Devi stepped away from him, back toward Tenna and Angel. "It means that I don't hate you, Nny. As to what it means for us, I don't know. There hasn't been an 'us' for a long time now." She turned, then paused at the sight of the locked door. "Let us leave, Nny. It's time for Angel to go home."  
  
He sighed and got to his feet, eyes lowered, and pressed the side of his left wrist. It beeped, and without warning, the wall on the street side exploded outward. Angel jumped, surprised, then hurried toward Devi, giving Squee a long look as she passed him. He looked up at her from under his eyebrows, head bowed, for only an instant before cringing like a kicked puppy and looking away.   
  
As they stepped over the rubble and carnage littering the sidewalk on their way out, she had a strange, unexplicably strong sense of deja vu, as if she'd seen this sort of scenario before somewhere. Angel mentally shrugged it off and hurried after Devi and Tenna to the car. She looked back at the two as they drove away, thinking hard about how things had turned out, and as she thought about it, she made a very important decision.   
  
They remained there, half in shadow, one staring at the taillights of Devi's car and wistfully wishing their reunion had gone better, one cursing himself at how stupid he had been to go about everything in exactly the way he shouldn't have.   
  
"Oh," Nny said, almost to himself, "Devi, whenever I thought of you, I thought of when we were 'us'." He sighed. "I just... I wish that it had happened... differently. Maybe, if I hadn't been sick... if I hadn't been so _stupid_... maybe there still could've been an 'us'..."  
  
"Johnny?"   
  
Nny turned around. "Yeah, Squee?"  
  
Squee stood up, looking for all the world like the bruised, abused child with the haunted look in his eyes that Johnny had found on his tenth birthday. "Can we go home now?"  
  
Johnny took one more look at where Devi's car had been, then turned back to the emotionally battered boy. "Yeah."  
  
*****  
  
I'm sorry that it's so short!!! I needed to get it out there, just so people wouldn't think I'd dropped off the face of the planet or anything. Please review it!! 


	5. Broken Hearts Mending

Author's Notes: FINALLY!!!!! I had so much trouble with this chapter because I know exactly how this story is going to end, but I don't know what to do to get there and not let it sound all rushed and impatient, you know? Oh, and there is some lighthearted (lightheaded?) humor in this chapter, to warn you, and some brooding as well. Many apologies to those who waited impatiently for this chapter with bated breath- hope you haven't all died from asphyxiation ^_^.  
  
Desires Of The Mind   
  
Nny'sFallenAngel  
  
Disclaimer: Hey! Looka dere!! ::points off into the distance wildly:: I own that! THAT!! Not this, though...  
  
Chapter Five: Broken Hearts Mending  
  
It was three twenty-seven in the morning, and the sky was beautiful. It was a deep blue, nearly black but not quite, and stormclouds flashed grey and purple in the distance. The majority of the sky, however, was clear and riddled with stars. It was cold, but bearably so... most likely, there would be no more snowfalls this year. The city was quiet and, with the exception of a few streetlights here and there, mostly dark, giving the night a soothing, whispering quality. The stars were amazingly visible and bright, as if to show off their splendor to the whole world. Tonight, however, there was only one person in the audience, and he couldn't have cared less about them.  
  
Squee, lying on his back at the very top level of an abandoned building's fire escape, hardly noticed the sky, the oncoming storm, or the stars. Any other night, he would have beeing staring into them, dreamy-eyed, lost, and wandering happily through his mind's imaginings. Just now, however, his mind was on other things.   
  
More important things.   
  
Like that night at the club.  
  
Like Angel.   
  
He sighed, shifting his weight, and put one arm behind his head. Squee stared up at the sky, unseeing, replaying the events of that night in his head for the billionth time. It seemed like it had happened years ago; he could hardly believe it had only been three nights since. He couldn't believe it had happened at all, come to think about it. It seemed so final. Squee couldn't bear the thought of it- them, really- ending like that. Three months, he had talked to her... most couples their age didn't even make it to three weeks before they broke up. Something had to be done, and it looked like he would be the one who had to initiate it. The more he thought about it, though, the more he lost his nerve. He hadn't even been able to try to call her, much less even think about going to her house and confronting her. Squee hadn't seen her take one of her early early morning walks, either, but whether that was a bad thing or not, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was better this way... her in her world, he in his. She walked in the light, he hid himself in the dark.   
  
Maybe it _was_ better this way. At least she was safe.   
  
Even from him.   
  
...  
  
Even from him.   
  
*****  
  
Angel shivered, hugging her light jacket closer to her body as a chill swept over her, hopping gently over a small pothole. She walked forward determinedly into the dark spaces between the circles of light provided by street lamps, quietly glad when she emerged again. The darkness had never bothered her before, but now... she'd realized that more was hidden in shadows than she'd thought.   
  
The nightmares had been coming more and more often. She had been having them every night since the 'incident' at the club, sometimes twice or even three times in a row. Tonight alone, she'd had them three times in succession, and decided that the only thing for it was to clear her head. And, of course, what better way to clear her head than to take a little walk?  
  
That had been her reasoning at the time. Now, however, with the winds picking up and clouds not too far away, she was having second thoughts. Being caught out in a storm in the wee hours of the morning would not be some fun morning activity. Not to mention the strange sensation she had that she was being watched... but that was impossible, wasn't it?  
  
A pair of hands darted out of the shadows on her right and clutched her arm. She had just enough time to scream before she was pulled roughly off the sidewalk and into a small side alley she hadn't noticed before.  
  
*****  
  
Nny leaned contentedly against his kitchen counter, sipping a fresh, steaming, full to the brim cup of black coffee, and watching the stormclouds gather over the city through his front window. He sipped again, careful not to burn his tongue with the scalding hot liquid, and sighed happily. It had been a while since he'd had a quiet night at home all to himself, and he had to admit, it was quite enjoyable. Even though he was technically still a young man- he was only in his early thirties- he was getting more and more willing to spend nights at home instead of going out. Nny shook his head ruefully, chalking his lethargy up to his age, noting that he would be forty years old in a little less than seven years. It was still strange to think so much time had passed since he had skipped town that night, in order to get rid of his emotions. He shook his head again, as if to banish the thought. It was best not to think of the past, especially such painful times as those had been. Nny sipped his coffee again.   
  
The wind buffeted the walls of the house as the storm drew nearer, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Nny looked across the room and noticed Squee's still darkened house. He frowned, wondering where the younger man was, especially with a storm like that threatening to hit at any moment. He was likely to get good and soaked, and a wet Squee was almost never a happy Squee.   
  
Nny glanced out the window again as the rain began to pour down good and hard, and blew on his coffee to cool it.   
  
As he drew in another breath to blow on it again, the rickety door to his house slammed open violently as though kicked off its hinges, and a very startled Devi stood on his front step, one arm raised in the act of knocking, the other one holding a large purple umbrella.   
  
Nny, startled beyond words, choked violently and jumped nearly a foot into the air, promptly upending scalding hot coffee all down his front. He stood, staring at Devi in shock, until the hot coffee soaked into his clothes and made contact with his bare skin. His eyes opened wide as saucers and he shrieked, running flappingly towards his bathroom, momentarily forgetting Devi as he panicked.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIEEEEEE!!! Hothothothothot it BURNS!!!!" he screamed, diving headfirst into his shower, and turning the spray on full blast.   
  
Devi watched this, supremely startled and a bit amused. She had just closed her umbrella and stepped into the house when another series of yelps exploded from the direction of the shower: "YAAAAAAAAAGH!!! COLD!! Holy grapefruit on high-" at which point the words degenerated into furious spluttering noises.  
  
Devi smiled, attempting to close the front door and wondering at how different Nny was since... the last time they had both been in his house. He had been shy and reserved, but at the same time sweet and... well, a bit vague. Well, she now knew why he had been so mysterious. Now, he just seemed so much more... reachable.   
  
Her reverie was interrupted when Nny splooshed his way out of the bathroom, and she had to put a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing. Upon closer examination, she placed the other hand over it too, as reinforcements in case the first one failed. Even still, she shook with suppressed mirth.   
  
Nny stood there, a long suffering look on his face as he dripped water onto the floor. He was soaked clear through, his dark blue dyed hair plastered to his head and running rivulets down his face, and there was a substantial coffee stain down his shirt and part of his pants. He looked awful.  
  
"Hello, Devi," he said, as though she stopped by every day.   
  
"I-Is this a bad time?" she queried, amused. "I think that we... well, we need to talk some things over."  
  
He shook his head, suddenly shy. "N-not at all, if you'll just let me go change into something a little," he motioned down at the puddle accumulating below him, "less wet."  
  
Devi nodded, trying to hide a small smile.  
  
*****  
  
Squee jerked upright as a piercing- and heartstoppingly familiar- scream tore through the night, startling him from his thoughts. He stood up quickly, listening, as a familiar worry wormed its way through his stomach and into his heart. A shorter scream, identical to its predecessor in everything but length, burst forth and was quickly silenced. Squee jerked his head in the direction the scream had come from and leapt onto the ladder, sliding down the fire escape and onto the street below. Breaking into a run, he set out to find the source of the screams. He only prayed he wasn't too late.   
  
Thunder rolled as lightning forked across the sky.   
  
*****  
  
Angel managed another short scream before her back was introduced rather harshly to a rather unyielding brick wall, knocking the wind out of her. She slid down the wall to her knees, gasping from the impact. Not too far away, someone giggled like a child being presented with some favorite kind of candy. Someone grabbed a handful of her left shoulder and hauled her upright, pinning her back against the wall with one hand and lifting her chin with the other. Still trying to catch her breath and scared half out of her wits, she could do nothing but stare at her captors.   
  
Holding her firmly against the wall was easily the most attractive, frightening man she'd ever seen. Just shy of six feet tall, he was a man of medium build with very long, very straight hair. His cold dark eyes looked her up and down, checking her over as though she was a slab of meat he was inspecting, his equally dark eyebrows drawn together. Judging by his appearance, he was still young, in his early twenties at the most. His face was extremely attractive, thought the part of Angel's mind that noticed such things at the most inappropriate times, and very intelligent looking. Long blond hair- dyed, most likely, if his thick dark eyebrows were any testament- framed his pale face, and nearly black eyes examined her impassively.   
  
"Well, Rex," the man mused, his voice incredibly throaty and hoarse- it sounded like he was speaking through a throatful of gravel, "it seems that you're in luck. You've been wanting one of these, haven't you?" He turned his head to look at the shorter man standing behind him, and Angel caught sight of a horribly deep scar across the man's neck. Someone had obviously tried to cut his throat, but, somehow, he had survived. "A fresh little girl," he continued, as a shorter, older man in an old, tattered suit came snivelling up behind him, rubbing his hands together happily. The handsome one looked at him almost disdainfully. "I guess I'll let you have her."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Din, thank you. She'll do," he cackled softly, looking slyly at Angel out of the corner of his eye.  
  
The man who held her, Din, must have noted the look on her face. "Don't worry, little girl. Whatever things Rex likes to do to little girls, he does them after they're dead. You won't feel a thing."  
  
She was even more horrified. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?!"  
  
All three of them jumped in surprise as a dark figure crashed loudly and abruptly through a bunch of metal garbage cans at the opposite end of the alley. Lids and cans rolled everywhere, clanging loudly, and a young man swore colorfully as he nearly tripped amongst them.   
  
Squee emerged from the shadows almost triumphantly then, only to be stopped cold by the scene he found in front of him. His eyes narrowed, taking in Rex, Din, Angel, Din's rough grip on Angel's shoulder, the lecherous look on Rex's face, and most especially the look of fear on Angel's face. He squared his shoulders and advanced toward them in a barely controlled fury.   
  
"Din," he said by way of greeting, stopping a few feet away from them.   
  
Din released Angel's shoulder. "Squee," he replied. "Anything I can do for you?"  
  
"Yeah, actually," he replied, "I see you have something of mine, there."  
  
Din arched a brow. "Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
*****  
  
Cliffhanger!!! Hate me now, you know now how I update. I've been working on the next chapter already, so hopefully you won't be waiting _as_ long as all that. Read, review, you know the schpeil if you've been with me this far. 


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